


Election Night

by kototyph



Series: Halloween Trick or Treat Ficlets [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Politics, Election Night, Established Relationship, Ficlet, M/M, West Wing Fusion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-01
Updated: 2014-11-01
Packaged: 2018-02-23 13:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2548649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kototyph/pseuds/kototyph
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p class="MsoNormal">An enterprising someone has repurposed the mail cart into a mobile drinks station. Dean, still on the line with the polling center downstairs, watches in mute resignation as one of the interns patrols up the hallway, hands reaching out from offices and cubicles for the solo cups and cheap wine they keep on hand for parties. Victor takes two cups, and Benny just grabs a bottle and starts drinking like a bum on the sidewalk.</p><p class="MsoNormal">He needs to get these people out of here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Election Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [queeniebroccolini](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=queeniebroccolini).



> _queeniebroccolini asked:_ hiiiiiii i've been watching the west wing and i have a MIGHTY NEED for a spn political au!! maybe with dean as the wise-cracking press secretary, cas as a secret service agent and sam as the idealistic young deputy communications director!!! YOURE THE BEST

An enterprising someone has repurposed the mail cart into a mobile drinks station. Dean, still on the line with the polling center downstairs, watches in mute resignation as one of the interns patrols up the hallway, hands reaching out from offices and cubicles for the solo cups and cheap wine they keep on hand for parties. Victor takes two cups, and Benny just grabs a bottle and starts drinking like a bum on the sidewalk.

He needs to get these people out of here.

_“Dean? Paying attention?”_

“Yeah, I’m still here,” he says, readjusting the phone where it’s tucked between his face and shoulder. “The natives are getting restless. How are our Ohio numbers?”

“ _No change since the last fifty times you asked,”_ Charlie answers, voice still bright and bubbly despite the late hour and the horrific levels of noise on her end. _“Exit polling still has us in the lead by a good handful of points. Not that that means anything, really, but it’s good news.”_

“Better than nothing,” Dean grimly agrees. “Keep your eyes open for any last-minute surprises?”

“ _Aye-aye, Mister Smee.”_

Dean makes a face at the president’s portrait, framed and hanging on the wall opposite his desk. “What?”

_“President Mills is Captain Hook, right? So that makes you First Mate Smee.”_

“Hey, if anybody’s Smee, it’s Bobby.” Dean catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and glances up to see Castiel parking his shoulder against the doorframe. When he sees Dean’s looking, he gives a little wave.

“ _Nuh-uh. Press Secretary Winchester is definitely first mate. Mr. Singer is the boatswain.”_

Dean sighs. “Go watch my polls, cabin girl.”

 _“Sir yes sir!”_ she chirps, and hangs up.

Dean drops the phone in its cradle and stands up to stretch, hands braced on his lower back. Crap, it sounds like a string of popcorn in there. “Hey, Cas. Whatcha got there?”

“Given the mood, it seemed pertinent to remove the hard alcohol from the premises,” the man says gravely, holding up a dusty bottle with a yellowing label. It’s shaped like a woman’s high-heeled shoe. “I believe this is the last. Can I interest you in some fine Georgian cognac?”

Dean squints at it, back still arched. “Is that the one that’s been the cabinet above the copier since we moved in?”

“That would be the one,” Castiel says, pacing forward. He’s not wearing a jacket, and his holster brackets his chest in twin strips of dark leather. “I believe it dates to the president’s first term in Congress.”

“Mmm. Bet it would clear out the sink in the break room.”

“And possibly eat through the pipes,” Castiel returns, settling the bottle on the desk. “Your back hurts.”

Dean shrugs. “I’ve been at my desk for fifteen hours and counting, so yeah, it— Cas?”

Castiel gestures down at the chair he’s pulled between them, backed up to the desk. “Sit.”

“Alright…?” Dean moves to sit down.

“No, facing away from me.”

Dean obeys, but he can’t help looking over his shoulder as Castiel rolls up one sleeve, then the other. “What are you— oh _fuck_.”

“I thought so,” Castiel says with satisfaction, digging his thumbs deep into the cramped muscle above Dean’s shoulderblades and massaging down. “Does that help?”

“Do it harder,” Dean begs, and moans unashamedly when Castiel leans into it. “God, so good.”

Coming back up, Castiel finds a tense spot at the base of his skull and rubs small circles along his spine, into his hair. “And here?”

“Especially there,” Dean says around an orgasmic noise, forehead on the back of the chair. “Oh fuck, mmmm, _fuck.”_

When Jody storms into the press office ten minutes later, trailing what sounds like Sam and half the communications team, Dean peels himself out of the chair with a petulant sigh and gets ready to intercept before she scares away the staff. Before he leaves the refuge of his office, though, he catches Castiel’s hand in his and mouths _later._ They are doing so much more of that, later. Castiel gives him a small, heated smile in return, but is admirably blank when they step outside to meet Hurricane Mills straight on.

“Dean! Ohio? _Ohio_ , Dean!” she says, grabbing his shirt.

“Ohio is fine, we are  _fine_ ,” Dean says soothingly, feeling like it’s true for the first time today, and ushers her towards the tunnel to the West Wing to wait out the voting.

**Author's Note:**

> I need more fandom friends! Find me on [tumblr](http://kototyph.tumblr.com/) and [livejournal](http://kototyph.livejournal.com/).


End file.
